-'<' ',*,' ^^^^ 





IS 



IN MEMORIAM 

OF 

THE REV. WILLIAM POMEROY OGLE, 

CURATE OF THE CHURCH OF ST. THOMAS-THE-MARTYR, 

BRENTWOOD, ESSEX, ENGLAND. 

WHO, IN HIS SLEEP, ON THE MORNING OF LAMMAS-DAY, 

AUGUST 1ST, 1884, 

Passed into the sleep of death 
From darkness into eternal light. 



The morning shall awaken, 
The shadows shall decay, 

And each true-hearted servant 
Shall shine as doth the day. 



THE VIGIL 

^2, Ponu 



N MEMORIAM 



€\^t ^rt. §&liUiam fomero]] ©flk 



JAMES M. B. DWIGHT 



NEW YORK 

PRINTED FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION BY 

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 

31 West Twenty-third St. 

1885 






Copyright, 

1885, 

BY JAMES M. B DWIGHT. 



PRESS OF J J. LITTLE & CO., 
NOS. lO TO 20 ASTOR PLACE, NEW YORK. 



<7 



TO 

PELHAM RHODES OGLE, 

PONSONBY DUGMORE OGLE 

AND 

ST. JOHN CHALONER OGLE, 

THIS POEM IS DEDICATED 

BY THE AUTHOR 

IN AFFECTIONATE MEMORY 

OF THE BROTHER 

WHOM THEY DEEPLY LOVED, 



PR EFACE 



^^^^^,HE tidings of the sudden death, on August 
1st, 1884, of the Kev. William Pomeroy Ogle, 
the nephew of my wife, who tenderly loved 
him, made a very deep impression upon her 
mind and heart, and upon my own feelings. The voices 
of this sorrow are found in these pages. 

The impressive funeral ceremonies at Brentwood, here 
transcribed, are a remarkable testimony of the love and 
respect in which he was held there. These services, with 
the solemn and silent journey through the darkness of the 
night upon the railway ; in which his lifeless form was ac- 
companied by the faithful and watchful attendance of his 
elder brother in the carriage for the dead ; the moonlight 
march along the river Teign to the church at Bishop's- 
Teignton (two miles) ; the midnight service in the church 
which followed; the silent and lonely watch of his 
brother through the hours until the morning, beside the 
beloved and stricken form ; the night's overshadowing 
darkness gathering around the lighted altai' and the 
patient watcher ; these were the vivid and weird sugges- 
tions for the Poem. And it has grown around them. 
It has also been my purpose to illustrate the Divine 

vii 



viii PREFACE. 

allegory of our holy religion and to glorify our blessed 
Saviour in the mystic sanctity of the Altar and the Cross. 

Those who are familiar with the church at Bishop's- 
Teignton, will observe that it has been transfigured and 
aggrandized in my vision into the likeness and dimen- 
sions of a great Cathedral, with vast spaces and lantern 
tower, like Ely, or Burgos in Spain, The latter was 
especially in my mind while writing. 

Part IV., "The Midnight and the Morning," was the 
nucleus of the poem, and was written first; the other 
portions at subsequent times. 

I have in several instances ventured to incorporate a line 
from a familiar hymn or well-known poet, but always 
with a diversion of meaning and some change of words. 

For note as to the Versification, see page xi. 

The following letter is subjoined by request. 

''August ISfh, 1884. 

" Dear P : We were much distressed by your let- 
ter, conveying the sad intelligence of your brother 
William's sudden death. * -^ ^ William had a tender 
and beautiful spirit; a character of the greatest delicacy; 
to which religion was a native air and the solemnity and 
dignity of holy worship a daily preparation for heaven, 
and foretaste of the life of the blessed. 

Such gentle and tender spirits our Lord has in his 
special keeping, as the lambs of his flock. He tempers 
the wind to their weakness; He leads them lovingly in 
the green pastures; He makes them to lie down beside still 
waters, and feeds them among the lilies ; and when their 
feet falter upon the dark mountains, He takes them in 



PREFACE. ix 

His bosom and carries them safely through the wilder- 
ness and over the dark river to the land of celestial light 
and peace. 

"How often they die young. How often the tender 
affection of the Lord remembers their earthly weak- 
ness and their holy devotion, their fainting steps and 
their heavenly aspirations; and in some hour unthought 
of, by some path untried; by some subtile gift of death 
and life, removes them from our sight. And the beau- 
tiful spirit is on its far off viewless way before we 
waken. Afterwards, when our sorrow is softened and 
the new thought of his translation has grown familiar to 
us, we begin to think how appropriate, how loving, 
how wise and wonderful has been the manner of his 
death. I believe our dear William had a good deal of 
the fear of death, and his joyous spirit shrank, often 
timidly, from the agonies of dissolution. The Lord did 
not forget this and took him gently away out of the si- 
lence of night and of sleep, to waken only in the ever- 
lasting Hght when the bitterness of death was passed and 
its pains were left far behind. Nor let us fear that the 
Lord forgot to give him the precious Viaticum of his love 
as he was borne away. 

There is much in William's life and in the manner of 
his death which reminds me of a beautiful Sunday which 
I spent in the south of Europe. It was at the city of 
Thomar in Portugal. Two miles outside the city was a 
Pilgrimage church on the top of a high conical hill, and 
called, as is their custom, a Calvary : where, as 1 
ascended, the sweet fields and fair city, the Church 
towers and ancient castles, lay spread out before me ; 



X PREFACE. 

and upward, the stations of the Cross alkire one on 
along the Redeemer's path to his last great sorrow. So 
lay the world below to William's sensitive and art-loving 
spirit. So the Stations of the Cross and his Saviour's 
suffering drew him along the ascending path toward the 
sacred shrine. Around me that day went up in the soft 
sunshine the people of the country; some in gala dresses, 
young men and maidens; others measuring on their 
knees the sacred distance. So William's heart was not 
without its gay bright hours in the soft sunshine, even 
on his heavenly pilgrimage: but still his spirit went 
resolutely upward, ever stopping and praying at the 
holy stations, ever planting his steps in the footprints of 
the Lord. 

In the brightness of his youth, and overcoming his 
mortal weakness. He has outwalked us all, and at last 
has reached the Pilgrim Chapel and the high altar. In 
holy trance he has fallen asleep before the altar; and the 
Lord has appeared to him there, saying : " I come again 
and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye 
may be also." When we too reach the Chapel and its 
shrine, we find that he has left his garment there beside 
the altar and is gone. We knew that he has not descend- 
ed; for we met him not. And then the thought comes to 
us that he has gone upward and will return no more. And 
while we wait and watch the sunset from the holy Cal- 
vary, we know that he is already hidden in its pearly 
bosom, and that the wings of his swift elastic spirit are 
already far beyond its declining shadows. 



NOTE 

ON THE VERSIFICATION. 



The portions of the Poem in blank verse, Parts II., V., VI., VII., 
VIII., IX.; also portions in rhyme, Parts IV., and VIII., are in the Iam- 
bic Trimeter of six Iambic feet. Part I., in blank verse, and Part X., 
in rhyme, have seven Iambic feet. And in those above mentioned, an 
occasional line of seven feet is allowed rather than sacrifice or curtail 
the thought. 

The Iambic Trimeter allows an anapest to be substituted for an 
Iambus in every place but the last. A Dactyl may also be admitted 
in the 2ud and 4th place. Occasional use has been made of this liber- 
ty for the sake of diversity and force. 

On account of the length of the lines (12 to 14 syllables), an effort 
has been sometimes made to give variety and vigor by having recourse 
to the methods of the ancient xVnglo-Saxon poetry, by alliteration, by 
assonance and by double rhymes in the middle of the line, also by in- 
troducing the principle of the refrain and by repetition of the thought, 
as also by paronomasia. For the same reason, rhyme has been some- 
times intermingled with blank verse. 

The metre of Part III., " The Land of Avalon," is allowed much 
variety, but with definite limitations. 

It is sometimes sought to represent the sense by the sound of the 
verse, as in the last eight lines of Part II.: where the aim is to repre- 
sent the varied movement of the railway train, — its starting, its steady 
roll, its hurried swiftness, its slowing and its stoppage. Part IV., 
is a second example; and there are frequent other instances of a simi- 
lar kind. 

xi 



CONTE NTS 



PAGE 

Preface vi 

Note on the A^ersification xi 

The Proem (In Pace) 13 

The Vigil, A Poem 19 

I. The Sea-Bird's Flight 22 

XL Brentwood 26 

III. The Land of Atalon 36 

IV. The Port that is Heaven's Portal ... 46 
V. The Midnight and the IMorning 52 

I. De Profundis . 53 

II. Resurgam 59 

HI. The ]\Iemorial Window 63 

IV. The Angels of Adoration 67 

V. Gloria 69 

VI. The Miracle of Flowers 74 

VII. The oMelodious Grave 78 

VIII. The Lotos Flower ......... 84 

IX. The Blessed Land Immortal 90 

X. The Sea- Bird's Return 96 

Appendix 101 

I. Notice of Death of the Rev. Wm. Pomeroy Ogle. 103 

II. Funeral Services at Brentwood. . . . . . 105 

Funeral Procession and Special Burial Services. 107 

III. Dedication of East Window at Brentwood. . Ill 

IV. Reopening of Luton Church 113 

V. Letter 116 

12 



THE 

PROEM 



IN PACK 



THE PROEM 



IN PACE. 




NTO the mother's shadowed heart * 
He came a tender star ; 
Into the father's serious thought 
A hallowed beam from far ; 



Into the brothers' earnest plays 

He came, a merry war ; 
Into the household's reverent ways, 

Of mirth a golden car. 

With brow of high and lofty hope, 

With eye of tender glow, 
With cheek whose velvet crimson slope 

Flowed o'er its Alpine snow ; 

With heart that sang with childhood's joy, 
With lips that laughed with love, 

With gentle soul as bright as coy, 
Love with his life he wove. 

15 



16 THE PROEM. 

A soft and silver radiance spread 
Where that sweet star did shine ; 

And purple-clustered reverence fed 
That spirit's golden wine. 

His boyhood's carol, bright and free, 
Charmed every listening heart. 

The ripple of his smiling glee 
Of Nature's smile was part. 

His eyes enchanted with the day, 

With youth his sportive toy, 
With temper beautiful and gay; 

Young, ardent, soulful boy ! 

But soon the youthful folded years 

Opened their lilied bloom : 
And April thoughts, oft fraught with tears. 

Came from life's gilded loom. 

Delicate grace and fairy joy 

Shed beauty o'er thy way. 
And won men's eyes and hearts ; fair boy. 

This was thy Spring-time's May. 

But now religion's gentle voice 

Spoke to his fervid June, 
And bade that nature rare rejoice 

In Jesu's sweet attune. 

The form erect with hallowed thought, 
The eye with love's soft glow, 



IN PACE. 17 

The cheek where tears with smiles had fought, 
The lips whence prayer did flow ; 

The heart with radiant meekness now, 

Devotion's rhapsody ; 
Unveiled the crowned and sainted brow, 

The white soul's sanctity. 

Transfigured by the Church's call, 

He walked the shining way ; 
Content to gain the blissful all 

Within the eternal day. 

The ministering angel's path he trod, 

O'er the mount beautiful. 
With golden light his feet were shod, 

With love all bountiful. 

The poor did bless his liberal hand. 

The sad his waiting feet : 
The sick, the infirm, beheld him stand 

By mortal pain's dark seat. 

The Church's holy service filled 

His rapt uplifted soul ; 
While hymns of praise with rapture stilled, 

And centuried anthems roll. 

The Eucharistic glory came 

To his kneeling- ecstasy, 
And fed, as with an Altar's flame, 

His lofty litany. 



18 THE PROEM, 

Silent lie bore his secret cross, 

His heart's faint agony ; 
Folding within that earthly loss 

Prayer's importunity. 

So came the winged angel lair 

Of death to his soul's light ; 
Not in the gathering, brooding dark, 

Not in the waning night. 

Borne on the wings of summer's dawn, 

He found the eternal day : 
That tender star, with sister stars,^ 

In glory passed away. 

Not death, but life, thou gentle soul. 

Doth lift thy wings away ; 
While Angels thy new name enroll 

Within the gates of day. 

NOTES. 

1 " Into the motlier's shadowed heart." 

Shadowed by the premonitions of her own last fatal illness. 

2 " That tender star, with sister stars." 

See Part V.— 4. The Angels of Adoration. 5. Gloria. 



THE 

VIGIL, 



A 
POEM. 



THE VIGIL 
I. 



I. 

THE SEA-BIRD'S FLIGHT. 




THE SEA-BIRD'S FLIGHT. 

)T was a summer's sultry night, in the season 
that has gone ; 
And in the restless visions of my head upon 
my bed, 
My winged spirit wandered from its mortal resting 

place. 
Into the world of darkness; over the wild waves' roar- 

And the trackless miles of night ; over the river Ocea- 
nus. 

Whereon Ulysses sailed to the pale land of ghostly dead ; 

Over the meadows^ where the oxen of the Hyperion Sun, 

Do ever patient feed, beside the mystic river's dream ; 

And all the spheric paths of day and night are equalized, 

Still rolling on with confluent, faithful streams, for ever- 
more. 

Over the outspread night my speeding spirit swiftly 
fled, 

23 



24 THE VIGIL. 

To the sea-girded island, whence our fathers manful 
came, 

Over the long and solemn waves, but which to us their 
sons 

Is lost as a mirage in the pale shadows of the dawn. 

Over the infinite distance my spirit fleeting flew, 

As a desolate sea-bird, and wandered on the lonely- 
shore. 

NOTE. 
» " Over the meadows," et seq. 
See Odyssey, XII, and X, 86- 



THE VIGIL 
II. 



11. 

BRENTWOOD. 




II. 

BEENTWOOD. 

LL lonely on the sounding shore there wan- 
dered far 
The sea-bird's melancholy voice : so resonant 
That shrill and ululating call, the breakers' 
roar 
Would hope to drown, in vain; the haunted night's appall 
Would fright it fruitlessly; the shipwreck's saddened 

ghost, 
Eecumbent on its quicksand grave, would vainly scare 
That waiting, wandering, boding, solitary cry. 
It waited and it wandered in the darkness drear; 
It wandered and it waited in the silence dread. 
It fervent flew from air to earth, from earth to air. 
From air to restless sea, and wandering waited still 
The coming voice, the awe-some summons of the dead. 



The Church. Then came to its ear attent a faint sad call, a 

cry. 
That drew its listening, quivering, quickening wings 

away 

37 



38 THE VIGIL. 

To Brentwood's hallowed faiie,^ beside the Eastern Sea, 
Where the beloved dead was sleeping : Brentwood fair, 
Whose lofty Nave ascended high into the heavens ; 
Whose beauteous Altar pitying fed, with living bread, 
The loving, waiting, thronging disciples of the Lord ; 
Whose hallow^ed Choir held prisoned fast the serried 

stalls, 
Whereon were hung the honored vestments,^ symbols 

true 
Of Priestly knighthood ;^^Christ's soldier' s armor, as he 

moves 
To holy war, and herald, in his Master's name. 
Demands submission to the Cross he lowly bears. 



The Home. ;N'ear to tlic sacrcd fane abode the early dead : 
In the Rose Valley slept Crosse Lawrence, ^ whence had 

fled 
The awe-struck soul, from earthly home to heavenly rest. 
From duty's loving gladness, to the pure and blest. 
In that sad dwelling, is a hushed and darkened room. 
The pallid form in silence lies, heeds not the steely 

gloom. 
There passionate life its beautiful brief hour had filled ; 
There the passionless Angel, Death, the silent form had 

stilled. 
Did the stars come out to w^atch the young life as it 

ebbed away? 
Did the moon sad vigil keep till the dawning of the 

day? 



BRENTWOOD. 29 

Did the morn that was breaking- o'er the still and sleep- 
ing world, 

To that shadowed room, bring the Angel of Light on its 
wings unfurled ? 

That lifted the fainted heart which death could no 
more appall, 

That opened the portals of heaven to that young spirit's 
call. 



Domine, refugium. slow movcd the saddcucd day, the slow 

declining eve ; 
When they that loved had come his memory to weave 
With sacred sorrow, blessed tears, the Church's voice 
In funeral service for the dead, the sainted joys 
Of faith and love, the requiem, the hallowed peace. 
The mourner's lengthened line, the aching grief's in- 
crease ; 
Came to the home deserted, solitary, cold ; 
To bear the spirit's earthly form to blessed fold : 
The holy Church, that held in life his life's long love; 
In death, the dear communion with the saints above. 



The Procession. Hither from sad Crosse Lawrence in the Rose 

Valley, 
Slow trod the sacred train through the long avenue 
Of mourning hundreds, weeping all that they should see 
That bright smile nevermore. At the wan eventide 
The long procession moves. In front the victor Cross 
Its bearer lifts on high : Angel of grief Divine 



30 THE VIGIL. 

It leads to Love's abode. Beneath that bannered Cross 
They bring the youthful dead, as on Patroclus' bier * 
The Argive hero sleut and conquered conquering 

death 
In glory's hour. So comes the early dead, — m whose 
Young saintly soul St. Lawrence' spirit waked again, — 
Within the holy aisle where waits the elegy 
Of love, the triumph song. Servant of God, well done ! 
In front the brave Cross-bearer lifts his holy Cross on 

high; 
And next the white-robed choir its monody of love 

recites 
And mingles sacred joy in sorrow's sable folds. 
The Church's clergy then with grief-bowed faces flowed 
In reverend robes along. The Yicar,^ father-friend, 
And elder brother of the soul, mourns the departed, 
And his bended head tells his heart's heaviness. 
The holy vestments ^ next, he wore in duty's call, 
Are borne before that silent rest, that prostrate form. 
Now slowly comes the dead ; The bearers' octave guards 
That treasured grief, that hushed repose ; brings tears 

to grace 
Those gentle obsequies. The coffin's purple pall, 
Lilied with fragrant flowers, leads the ecstatic thought 
Of sacred grief beyond the purple-tinted skies 
Of evening's softened hour, to the bright dawn of heaven. 
Then, wearily, the brother dear moved slowly on ; 
And, patient, crowned with sorrow's pearly diadem, 
Pressed onward toward the Church's tender knell. 
The broken Guild of the Ascension followed then, 



BRENTWOOD. 31 

Their loved Superior,® and his silence-anchored hour; 
And they in whispers sang, " The. dead shall rise again, 
The loved and lost ascend into the shining heavens." 
And last came, sorrowing all, who loved the faithful 

dead, 
The gentle dead, who, as a Palmer Pilgrim goes 
To his long home, Jerusalem the golden, 

The City of the Blest, Jerusalem 
The golden, where dwell the holiest. 



The Via Dolorosa. As the Crusadcrs' lofty host, with banners 

high 
And hallowed hymns and trumpets' victor voice, doth 

mount 
The Via Dolorosa, and unwind its proud 
Array of knightly soldiers, princes, saints of God, 
Along the ascending way to the Holy Sepulchre ; — 
While the soft moon of Palestine looks down on Calva- 

Blessing the still bright evening hour with stately pomp 
Of funeral honor, to some knight, whose victor name 
Valor hath writ in heaven, death has baptized in peace : 
So in the twilight silence moves the sad array 
Along the lifted road, the hill of sorrow mounts, 
That dauntless leads to Calvary's hour of peaceful rest ; 
Their faithful hymn winds on the evening's gentle air 
And mounts the glory of the sky, and blissful sings 
At heaven's own gate, where enter in the golden host 
Of Angels singing ever praise antiphonal. 



32 THE VIGIL. 

The Requiem, ^q from Ctossg Lawreiice in the Rose Valley 

there came 
The sacred train unto the holy Chancel, where 
The dead was gently laid before the blessed Altar, 
Fronting the vacant stall and vestments ^ which once 

held 
His mortal form. But now, a* garments of praise and 

robes 
Of glory, waited the morning; as the white robes 
Of glory, waited in joy the eternal morning's calm ; 
Waited in joy the eternal land of morning calm.'' 
Above the young and lovely, the faithful unto death, 
The " Lamb of God," "The precious Saviour," floated 

high 
On music's tender peal; "Brief life is here our por- 
tion," 
With " fourfold litany," " Oh Death, where is thy sting," 
"Oh Grave, thy victory?" It ends, and once again 
The organ's mighty thrill, touched by the Master's 

hand ^ 
Enthroned amid its majesty, gave the last requiem 
To one he loved ; then, prophet, voiced the soul's high 

hope, 
I know that my Redeemer liveth ; in my flesh 
I shall see God. I shall behold my risen Lord, 
In the white regnant glory of the latter day. 



The Transit. 7]^^ music's grand intone hath found its rest: 
The broken benediction flowed o'er gathered throng, 



BRENTWOOD. 33 

Waiting the egress of his final hour. Hence while 
Their farewell floated on, life's mourning, parting song ; 
Hence the pale form, uplifted, within its narrow home, 
By gentle hands, by loving hearts was given ; and with 
The lonely watcher by its side, was borne afar, afar ; 
Swifter and more swiftly o'er the quick-fleeting distance, 
While the miles melted, and the golden sunset paled 
Into the patient shadows, and the umber night, 
Dim, mourned and sorrowed into darkness. Thus as a 

wind 
Of night, onward that speeding train so swiftly came ; 
With its pale watcher and its prison home. 
With its freighted sorrow and its deep sealed silence, with 
Its inarticulate message and its euphony of woe. 

NOTES. 

^ " To Brentwood's hallowed fane beside tlie Eastern sea." 

The Church of St. Thomas the Martyr, Brentwood, Essex : described 
as " beside the Eastern sea," because its county, Essex, fronts the 
German Ocean. 

2 " The honored vestments." In the funeral train Mr. W. Larkiu,. 
Treasurerof the Guild of the Ascension, walked directly in front of the 
body, carrying the vestments of the deceased : and at the service in 
the Church, hanging over the stall which was rendered vacant by his 
death, were placed these vestments, a sacred memorial of his late 
living presence. See Appendix, page 108. 

^ " In the Rose Valley slept Crosse Lawrence." 

The late residence of the deceased. 

"* " As on Patroclus' bier." 

See Iliad, Book XXIII. 

^ "The Vicar, father-friend, and elder brother of the soul." 

The Rev. Charles Grinstead, Vicar of St. Thomas the Martyr, Brent- 
wood, Essex. 
3 



34 THE VIGIL. 

•5 " Their loved Superior." 

The deceased was the Superior of the Guild of the Ascension. 

7 "The eternal land of morning caltn." 

CJiusan, which signifies " the land of morning calm," is the highly 
poetical name, by which is known to the natives of the country .the pen- 
insular empire which we call Corea. 

8 " The organ's mighty thrill, touched by the master's hand." 

Mr. A. H. Brown — an eminent composer of sacred music, and the 
friend of the deceased. 



THE VIGIL. 
III. 



III. 

THE LAND OF AVALON. 



III. 



THE LAND OF AVALOK^ 




E comes, the youthful dead, 

Whence thrilling life has fled; 
He comes, the gentle Priest, 
For his sad hour of rest ; 



Devon. Tq fi^Q sweet vales of Devon, ^ 
Beside the western sea, 
Where ever smiles the even, 
And ever smiles the lea : 

Where the soft southern waters* 
From far West-Indian seas. 

Bring tropic flowers to blossom 
Within their halcyon breeze : 



Where the Teign's rippling river,* 
With flooding tide doth fill 

The quiet vales with gladness, 
Beneath the verdant hill : 

37 



38 



THE VIGIL. 



The Church. Where lioly Xorman valor ^ 

Hath built its ancient church; 
The ruin's ivied chapel " 
Kecords its handiworks : 

The Sunset. Where the sunset is sweetest 
In all the western land ; 
The smiling river speaketh 
Of life beyond its strand. 

The golden sunset utters voice, 
The silver river mirrors joys ; 

Of life's exultant, blessed land, 
The other life's Elysian strand. 



V 



T^^^3«^^ That sunset land of beauty rare, 



Where heroes breathe in heavenly air, 
Where Arthur, peerless knight, has gone,' 
The sunset land of Avalon. 



The Royal Arthur floats away 
In evening's clouds to purple clay, 
Sailing in splendid argosy 
O'er the enchanted, mystic sea, 



To the new haven of eternal rest. 
Where enter in the holy, pure and blest ; 
The Port that is heaven's portal, 
The blessed Land immortal. 



THE LAND OF A VALON. 



39 



Like Arthur floating to the west 
Doth come young manhood's loveliest, 
In gentle splendor floats away 
Into the light beyond our day. 



Avaion. gg comes the youthful, saintly dead — 
Life's longest half yet still unread — 
The knightly priest doth hither come 
Toward Avaion his Aidenn home. 



The Conca 
d'Oro. 



riie land that doth all lands excel, 
Deep-meadowed, fair, with asphodel,^ 
And summer sea, whose golden shell 
Parts holy mount from city's circling swell; 

As at Palermo's stately side 

St. Kosalie doth dwell; 
And with its wavelets' golden tide 

Guards the Saint's citadel.^ 



/ 



Here on the borders of that land 
The youthful Priest doth silent stand. 



s^^eet^fi^^ds Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 



Wait, dressed in living green ; 
The river's broad and shining rood 
Is all that lies between. 



40 THE VIGIL. 

Here the sunset is sweetest still ^^ 

In all the western land ; 
The smiling river speaketh, still, 

Of life beyond its strand. 

Of Avalon the shadows bright 

In Teign's sweet vale are heaven's own light. 



The Chancel Here in the Church's chancel shrine 

Shrine. 

The faithful dead and watcher come ; 
The Norman Church's chancel shrine, 
His gentle spirit's earliest home. 

Nearest that holy shrine their tomb 
Will ope for him its vaulted gloom, 
Where the loved, kindred dead sleep well 
Beneath the Church's pealing bell ; 

The ivied Ruin's shadows wave 
Above the flowers we call their grave : 
And verdurous rest and heavenly peace 
Doth speak the joy of life's release. 



T^e^ross "^^^ shadow of thg marble Cross 
Mirrors its image on the moss ; 
Imprints the seal of Jesu's love 
On the green turf that grave above. 



THE LAND OF AVALON. 41 

The Cross uplifts its sacred form 
Beneath, above, beyond the storm. 
Its patient arms embrace the dead. 
Symbol of love o'er death outspread. 

Like Guardian Angel it doth wait, 
Keposing at the solemn gate 
Of life eternal, life Divine ; 
As at thy tomb, dear Lord, recline 

Thy patient Angels, waiting Thee, 
Waiting till Thou from death art free ; 
Till Easter's glory fills the tomb, 
And light Divine disperse the gloom. 

So the dear Cross, with guardian care, 
Doth watch the tranquil sleeper there ; 
Waits for the coming of the dawn ; 
Waits for thy victory, Easter morn ! 

Thou Cross so watchful. Cross so dear, 
Emblem of faithful Saviour near. 
Guard thou our graves until the morn, 
Until we wake at Easter's dawn. 

NOTES. 

J " The Land of Avalon. " 

This is written, Avalon and also Avilion by Tennyson. In differ- 
ent editions of the Morte d'Arthur of Sir Tliomas Malory, it is 
spelled, Avilion and Aveloime. Amid this variance I have followed 
the spelling of Mr. Herbert Coleridge, wliicli seems to have the most 
authority and best critical usage. 



42 THE VIGIL. 

2 " To the sweet vales of Devon," 

" The sweet county of Devon. Its valleys are like emerala ; its 
threads of water stretched over the fields by their provident husband- 
ry, glisten in the broad glow of summer like skeins of silk." 

D. G. Mitchell. 
" Sweet shire, that bounteous Nature richly dowers; 
Sweet shire, whose glens and dells are fairy towers; 
Sweet shire, whose very weeds are fragrant flowers. " 

5 " Where the soft Southern waters " — 

An allusion to the Gulf-Stream and the mild climate of Devon, 
where the myrtle and fig grow in the open air. 

4" Where the Teign's rippling river" — 

Which enters the sea at Teignmouth ; for several miles from its 
mouth a broad tidal estuary. No one, who has seen it, will easily forget 
the extreme beauty of the view from the Church and Vicarage over 
the broad and shining river and the western hills, or the sunsets 
which irradiate and enshrine the scene with a peculiar glory and in- 
evitable suggestion of the better land. 

^ " Where holy Norman valor 

Hath built its ancient Church " — 

The ancient Norman Church of St. Johnat Bisliop's-Teignton, dates 
from about 1327-69 A.D, A large portion of the Church however is 
much older than this date, and belongs to the period of Saxon archi- 
tecture. Says Lysons, Magna Britannia, vol. VI. : 

" The most considerable remains of Saxon architecture in Devonshire 
are the two square towers of the Cathedral of Exeter, built by Bishop 
Warlewast, and the Churches of Bishop's-Teignton and East Teign- 
mouth, both of which appear to have been built about the same time, 
(A. D. 1107-36). The Tower of Bishop's-Teignton is square and of 
massive construction. The west door exhibits the richest specimen 
of Saxon architecture in Devonshire, with grotesque heads, chevron 
and other mouldings. The south door has a plain circular arch, on 
the transom stone of which are some kneeling figures rudely carved. 
Many of the windows of Bishop's-Teignton are obviously of later 
date, long subsequent to the erection of the Church, probably about 
the 14th century, at which time the North Aisle appears to have 
been added. The Chancel belongs to the 14th century. 



THE LAND OF AVALON. 43 

Fonts. — Among many of circular form and an early age, enriched 
with various carved mouldingfs, wreaths, scroll work, or foliage, may 
be enumerated those of Ashcombe, Bideford, Bishop's-Teignton, etc. 

^ " Ruin's ivied chapel " — 

The ivied ruin of the ancient Lady-Chapel, which overhangs the 
rear of the Church and the family tomb. 

7 " Where Arthur, peerless knight, has gone. 

The sunset land of Avalon." ^ 

This conception of King Arthur sailing away in his enchanted ship 
over the mystic sea is the glorious close of the Arthurian legend, 
and here it ceases, as the royal vessel vanishes from sight. I have 
ventured to add to the legend the new picture — his arrival at the Sun- 
set Land, 

'• To the new haven of eternal rest, 

Where enter in the holy, pure and blest, 
The port that is heaven's portal, 
The blessed land immortal." 

and a thought which I have not found elsewhere, of the entrance 
to the harbor of Palermo, as a picture and shadow of that blessed ha- 
ven where the royal galley enters to its rest. When I beheld that 
wonderful bay with the circling swell of its golden strand, the 
"Conca d'Oro," its glorious mountain on the right crowned by 
the pilgrimage church of St. Rosalie, and its stately city fronting our 
eager vessel, it rose before me as a beautiful dream and exquisite 
image of the entrance and haven of the Land of the Blest. 

Says Goethe : "No words can express the aerial brilliancy which 
jBoated around the coasts as we approached Palermo. The clearness 
of contour, the softness of the whole, the tender blending of tones, 
the harmony of heaven, earth and sea— he, who has once seen it, pos- 
sesses it for life." — Translation by Mrs. Austin. 

8" With asphodel" — 

An allusion to the asphodel meadow on the Elysian shore. 



44 THE VIGIL. 

9" Saint's citadel"— 

Here is a double-entendre — It is both Saint's and Saints'— both the 
citadel of St. Rosalie, and the citadel of the land of the blessed, 

*<> " Here the sunset is sweetest still 
In all the western land 
The smiling river speaketh, still, 
Of life beyond its strand." 

Here is a new sort of rhyme— *S^i7^, in line one, means Yet, in line 
three, Tranquil. The same word is used but with different meanings. 



THE VIGIL 

IV. 



IV. 

THE PORT THAT IS HEAVEN'S PORTAL. 




TV, 

THE POET THAT IS HEAVEN'S PORTAL. 

'OW the fierce steed has rested ^ that bore the 
mournmg train, 
The watcher and his burden have reached 
their land again, 
The muffled bell doth drop its pearly toll along the road. 
The dying moon doth wait till he draws nigh his last 
abode. 

The steady-tolling bell doth gently lure him on ; 
The guardian of his youth, it calls him to his own. 
Tell, silent Spirit ! tell, Doth that sad bell control 
Thy measured fainting steps toward that eternal goal ? 

Each toll doth lure a step, each fainting step a toll. 
And ever mourns the tolling bell the passed soul. 
While midnight darkling wide draws near with fateful 

power. 
And the Teign's waning tide doth softly pulse the hour. 

The mourners' steps of sorrow press o'er the lessening 

mile, 
Till they have left their burden within the sainted aisle. 

47 



48 THE VIGIL. 

With level song triumphant along the holy rood, ^ 
They bear their fainted burden to where in life he stood, 
In joyful litany of stately praise, 
In childhood's bliss of happy holidays. 

The sad procession cometh along the peaceful aisle, 
Laden with whitest flowers, heaven's gentle pit;ydng 
smile, 

I am the Eesurrection and the Life, 

Rises soft upon the air : 
Blest are the dead that die in the Lord, 

The youthful and the fair. 

The Church wakes at his coming, and with radiant light 
And sacred prayer and blessed hymn and holy rite, 
Eeceives the parted soul in benediction sweet 
Of loving arms. The sad and speechless form, replete 

With death, she guards, and giveth the beloved sleep : 
Then fervent prays the Lord the silent soul to keep. 
Her lowly prayer shall watch through slowly-speeding 

night, 
Her living love hath wings to guard the spirit's flight. 

The father s prostrate heart doth lay its sacrifice 
Upon the Altar's lambent flame with softened eyes, 
And she with mother-sister's heart, who loved the dead. 
Wept oft with streaming eyes and life that inward bled. 



THE PORT THAT IS HEAVEN'S PORTAL. 49 

While the child-brother's ^ tearful, imlbrgetting voice 
Mourns the sad painful loss of brightest earthly joys ; 
The brothers twain, their triad broken, ne'er forget 
Of long-remembered years, affection's gracious debt. 



The victor hymn hath passed away along the lonely aisle, 
The holy service' faithful voice hath stilled itself awhile ; 
The loving friends are scattered all to silent broken sleepj 
The tender mourners all are gone, to weep, and still to 
weep. 

NOTES. 

1 "Now the fierce steed has rested " — 

Describes the arrival at the end of tl e railway journey at Teignmouth, 
which is followed by the transit through the darkling night and beside 
the moonlit river to the Church at Bishop's-Teignton. 

2 "The holy rood "— 
The Church's aisle. 

3 A younger brother, St. John Chaloner Ogle, greatly beloved by the de- 
ceased. 



THE VIGIL 

V. 



V. 

THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 




THE xMlDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 

I. 
DE PROFUNDIS. 

The Church. 

OW the passing bell hath ceased upon the 
startled air. 
The holy service' voice hath blessed the tran- 
quil sleeper there, 
And left the watcher and the dead within the still 
And folded silence. Now that pale form rests, within 
The ancient Church, that centuried home of Jesu's flock ; 
That sacred fold, that mother mild ; whose loving arms 
Did guard his infant years; his childhood's opening 

bloom ; 
His manhood's fervid fire ; his soul's illumined flame 
Of consecration, and his mild baptismal hour ; 
His first communion with the Love and Chalice of his 

Lord ; 
His boyhood's choral song, his youthful Priesthood's 
blossoming.' 

The Altar. Here, while. I, sentinel, watched, as a restless sea 

bird, on 
A column's stony wave, as night's meridian flitted near, 

53 



54 THE VIGIL. 

Had come the sad-hearted, the dear and loving, and left 
The sealed and isolated one before the high Altar, 
On which the lighted candles waited for the dawn : 
While others, marshalled in close serried ranks beside 
The coffin's long penumbra " of life's ending day, 
As in a Chapellc-Ardente, wafted back the night's 
Deep shadows and its hoary grime of blackness dire ; 
And mth their beautiful radiance kept the holy vigil 
Of faith, until the fell daVkness should flee away. 



The Vision. p^)\ j^^^j withdrawn save one, who kept his sa- 
cred watch 
Beside his brother's hushed and awe-struck silence. 

Veiled 
In the deep night, the Church, although familiar as 
Of old, seemed in my vision strange, expanded to the 

vast 
Dimensions of a grand Cathedral's stately life. 
Like Ely's splendid pile or Burgos' ^ wondrous glory. 
And like the latter's symboled thought, its Lantern 

Tower 
Seemed to ascend on high into the pierced heavens ; 
Like Jacob's ladder, with its hosts of sculptured Saints 
And Angels, who descend in benediction, or 
Ascend in glorious joy the measured steps of the eternal 
Felicity. But all was lost in deepest night. 
It wastlie midnight's spectral hour, when darkness' wall 
Is most fearful and sublime, when weakened life beats 

feeblest 



THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 55 

In the heart, and savage powers from Tartarus wander 

forth 
To a world that seems abandoned to their malignant 

wilL 



The Slumber, j^ blackness dread the faithful watcher, lost 
In temporary reverie, has sadly risen ; 
Unconscious, wandered from the Altar's home of light ; 
Pressed down the vacant aisle ; and in folded sorrow re- 
posed 
Behind a column's shadow, which the glory-beam 
Hath quite eclipsed, of the grieved Altar's guardian flame. 
Enchanted sleep hath sudden sat upon his palsied 

brain. 
And robbed his eyes and will and heart of memory's 

chain. 
And sprinkled Stygian night upon his soul's white 
fane. 



The Temptation. Hark ! Now he is awakened by sudden whis- 
perings 
Out of the midnight's bosom. " Now it is your hour 
And the power of darkness," is uttered at his ear. 
Dim spirits move and wild temptations rise around. 
The Ebon King of darkness and his spirit slaves. 
All mocking hiss their incoherent blasphemies. 
Squat at his startled soul ; fierce flying vampire fiends, 
With leaden, lurid wings affright the dimned air, 



56 THE VIGIL. 

Dark Earthliness, with its wild waves of passion's fire ; 
Foul Unbelief with its presumptuous violence ; 
Pale Skepticism's voice, with its unresting doubts, 
That cast up mire and dirt along the soul's bright way ; 
Rebellious Demons that would tear the very heaven 
From its firm base of alabaster, its white throne 
Would fierce implunge in dark oblivion's river's night ; 
The wily and the craft-ful spirits, Demons wild, 
Maleficent, that wore the faces of Kenan 
And Strauss, and Kuenen's guileful form, and those dark 

wraiths, 
The countenances of Schopenhauer and Hartmann, 
With hateful Pessimism infest the teeming shades. 



The Demon Army. Surcly all Spirits of darkuess and of guile 

and woe 
Are in that fierce temptation, and as birds of night. 
As Harpies foul with fetid claw and quivering beak. 
Strain all their guilty powers to draw the shivering soul 
From its allegiance, ere they fly the coming dawn. 
The hollow arches ring with frantic mockery. 
Like fierce hyena-laughter in the frightened gloom 
Of peace-encinctured night, within the Holy Land. 

Thus barking hoarse they cry — ' Shall the pale 
sleeper rise ? 

Is there another life for the departed soul ? 

Is there a God that rules the thrilling universe V 

Is there a pitying Savior that doth reign on high ? 

Or any hope that is an anchor to the soul 



THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 57 

Both sure and steadfast, and that entereth in, to that 
Dim hoUow vanlt within the silence-guarded veil ?' 
The busy demons shriek, and the frail soul doth quail 
With the horror of the great temptation, with the Were- 
Wolves of darkness, and the midnight's mystic power. 



The Overthrow. Hark I hist ! Is it! It is ! The silent sleeper 

stirs, 
And the vile demons hiss and scatter far. The fierce 
Black spirits fleet away. The wolves of darkness hide. 
A viewless something glides, all sweet and beautiful, 
All white and silvery, across the Stygian tide. 
And places on the dreamer s breast a Cross of mystic 

light : 
And the hideous nightmare that has brooded there, has 

fled 
Away, into the wall of night, into the unblessed 
Kayless recesses of the hollow-haunted night. 
The holy shining Cross upon his breast lights up 
The vaulted gloom, and the night's nebulous brooding 

wings. 
Lights the frail soul within, deep struck with horrent 

fear, 
Lights the fluted column and the distant aisle. 



Victory. He springs from behind the column's shadow ; now 

with brow 
And bosom all illuminate, he comes afar, 



58 THE VIGIL. 

And lifts his eyes toward the Altar's throne serene ; 
Whereon the faithful lights are bravely shining, softly 
Shining, and wafting back the crowding shadows' pow- 
er. 
With fearsome feet, but heart exalte he takes flight 
From black pursuing night : with frightened joy he flees 
To sheltering arms, to sacred haven, and is saved. 

The holy Altar's glory-flame hath circled him ; 

The blessed Altar's mother-love enfolded him; 

The faithful Altar's mighty shield hath covered 
him ; 

The peaceful Altar's tender voice doth comfort him. 
He has been tempted like his Lord ; but that wild hour 
Is o'er ; and still the Altar lights fight with the fierce 
Darkness, and guard the pale, pale watcher and the 

lone 
White spirit's pictured antitype, the silent dreaming 

dead. 
Behold the morning cometh, and, behold ! the night. 
And now, Is it ? It is, as with his risen Lord, 
That when the impetuous onslaught of temptation dire 
Is o'er, the Angels came in gentlest ministry ! 



V. 

THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 

11. 

RESURGAM. 

Silence Wakens. 

^f»§HE heav}^ clock strikes One, — One after mid- 
night's hour; 
The silence may be felt, and broods with ra- 
ven wings 
O'er the pale sleeper's narrow home. Hark I What is 

that? 
Upon the watcher's wakeful sense there inward creeps 
A silent sound. 'Tis slumberous silence audible. 
Is it ? It is ! Something alive is flitting near. 
Within the sentinel lights around the coffin's pall 
Something there is, he cannot see, nor hear, nor know, 
But that reveals its presence to his spirit's awe- 
Struck thrill. Is it ? It is ! The dead has wakened! 
He kneels among his guardian lights, that, like the sev- 
en 
Spirits of God, whose eyes are in the all of earth, 
Protect him, child of eternit}^ from the danger 
And the darkness' thrall, from the night's haunted brood- 
ing thrall. 

59 



60 THE VIGIL. 

TheAnereisof Hark! what is that? Hark ! what is that, so 

Consolation. 

liquid, still ? 
Another rustling sound as of light wings, surrounds 
The sleeper's resting-place ; and a choir of Angels wafts 
His first awakened prayer, commingled with the incense 
That floats from their, but half-unfolded, hovering wings 
Into the dome and distance of the lofty roof ; 
And conveys to his young quivering soul the Holy Grail,* 
The golden Chalice cup of the Divine forgiveness, 
The holy Eucharist, the wine of heavenly life ; 
Of which our Saviour said, " I will not drink it again 
AVith you, even until I drink it new with you 
In the kingdom of heaven." And now the awakening 

soul partakes 
His Lord's Viaticum of love, the blissful draught, 
Lethe of sorrow, wine of life, immortal joy, 
A lambent flame, a raptured worship, purple peace, 
A passion thrill from thy sweet passion, dearest Lord ! 
Thy love's beatitude, thine own eternal life. 
With joy transported, from the Angels' hands he takes 
The cup of heaven — erewhile their patient wings rest 

quiet. 
Their eyes of love fold downward and their gentle lips 
Pray fervently. Again the Angels and their songs 
Are gone, and the soft incense of their lifted prayer. 
In adoring ecstacy the exalted soul still bends 
Before the Altar's veil. Before the shining vest 
Of amber light that guards the Altar's throne serene 
The trembling spirit kneels; his whispered prayer as- 
cends 



THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 61 

Within the Altar's incense; his transfigured heart 
Shines radiant with unearthly love; his reverent eyes 
Are lost in beatific vision, and the golden flame 
Makes one transparent glory of his form ; in which 
Irradiant temple the sonl shines with splendence soft 
And flows through each translucent nerve of life electric. 
Thus in its litany the ardent soul abides 
Before the Altar's face. The faithful watcher waits. 
The lo^ ' Q sea-bird on the wall doth keep sad silence there. 



But soon the glowing vision's tide no longer flows. 
Fast the exceeding brightness fades in night away; 
The refluent glory passes, all too soon is gone. 
Behold, the dark world settles to its hour of doom ; 
And lo, the morning cometh, and yet comes the night. 




V. 
THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 

III. 
THE MEMORIAL WINDOW. 

The Two Maries. 

'he heavy clock strikes Two, — Two after mid- 
night's hour. 
Hark ! hist ! Is it a sound, or a dark beauteous 
gem 
Cut out from silence' shore, that has a melody 
Enfolded in its secret life and raven gloom ? 
The watcher gazes upward at the window,^ where 
The sacred Maries twain, symbols of faithful love, 
That watched his childhood's fleeting years, have long 

illumed 
His bright imaginings of duty and of heaven ; 
And hidden, while revealed, the Divine allegory 
Of guardian angels around his earthly footsteps. What ! 
He sees in the pale darkness that they are not there. 
Again he looks. They have come down from their bright 

throne. 
Where through the holy service they have stood so long 
In the soft sunset's purple light, and illumined there 
The dear faces of the children they have left behind, 
With all the tinted glories of the better land. 

68 



64 THE VIGIL, 

At the Altar. Clotliecl in white robes and palms in their white 

hands, they kneel 
Beside the Altar's front ; the mother dear at the end 
Whence flows the Gospel's tide, the grandmother, great- 
ly loved, 
At the dear side, where abides the Epistle's sacred voice 
Of warning's gentle guidance. And the mother blest 



A Little Child. Holds by the hand a little child," whose earthlv 

life 
Was one long atrophy ; a saddened atrophy. 
In that the nourishment and infant joy that feeds 
The young soft life with its beautiful bloom, was denied 
To her: an a-trophy in that the grander victory 
Of life, its achievements and the trophies of existence, 
Were not given. But now, in its happy heart-beating 
There is no tear, no sorrow pale. Its robes are white 
As no fuller on earth can whiten them. Its sweet soft 

eyes. 
Tender and true, so bright and blue, have seen the land 
That is very far off. The heavenly grace hath folded her 
Young spirit, and named her ' Grace ' among the Angels, 

where 
Child of immortal youth, her pensive heart doth dwell. 



The Triad. \\^ jg | jt is ! Between them kneels the son 

beloved 
And brother dear. Paleness has left his face ; stupor 



THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 65 

His form. The cerements of death are left behind. 
The robes of the white eternal life have encircled now 
His pure transfigured spirit. The Cross of mystic light. 
The Palm given by the martyrdom of death, are his. 
He beholds the King in his beauty now, and he is 

wrapt 
In the ecstatic vision of the blessed land. 
A snowy sheen lies round him, lustrous aureole 
Of fadeless light, whose shining folds e'en blanch 
The paleness of the air, and white the gazer's soul 
With scintillance of brightness, silvery clouds of thought. 



HoiyRadiar.ee. t}^q Hghts arouud the coffiu liave grown 

dim, gone out. 
But those at the sacred Altar's side shine still more bright, 
And seem with lambent light to pervade and penetrate 
The figures of those Angels kneeling there, till each 
Seems illuminated from within with a mystic radiance, 
An opalescent brilliance in a pearly bloom ; 
A light ne'er seen on land, or sea, or sounding shore ; 
A light like to the stars in their faithful shining, 
Or to the Lily where it blooms in the garden of God. 
And there they kneeling wait and pray, the Angels 

three : 
The Angel of Peace, the Angel of Rest, and the Angel 

of Prayer. 
There, while the darkness wanes, they wait, and kneeling 

Pi^ay— 
And lo, the morning cometh and the night is breaking. 




V. 
THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING, 

lY. 
THE ANGELS OF ADORATION. 

Worship. 

;HE heavy clock strikes Three,— Three after 
midnight's hour. 
E'en while we look, they kneel no longer. 
And now three 
Exquisite Angels' instant stand all looking toward 
The Altar's orient flame. Their faces' light is drooped 
In prayer. The hands of each are clasped together, held 
In ecstatic adoration's still and silent awe. 
Their robes are whiter than the paling light, and shed 
An infinite purity upon the ambient air. 
The sapphire air that seems all hallowed into joy. 
All quivering into gladness with their presence there. 
But the bright wonder of the vision was their wings, 
AVhich, half unfolded, thrill to fleet away to that blest 

home. 
With which the Father crowns the far off templed height 
Of azure arching skies, w here He eternal dwells. 
The pink and purple light from the inner dome of heaven 
Was on those wings— the sunset's brightest glory-hue, 



67 



68 THE VIGIL, 

The rainbow's njelody of radiance Divine 

Was on those palpitating wings of love and peace. 

And as they softly rose, and dove-like fell, they were 

A perfume and a benediction sweet, a prayer 

And vision, a thrilling aspiration and Divine 

Pity. And Avaves of light seemed ever flowing through 

Their life translucent, like to spirit-breathings, that 

Would waft their pinions back to their fair home on high. 

Thus stood the witness Angels of our hour sublime 

Before the holy Altar's lifted face, erewhile 

Its living lights were shining, and the Dayspring was 

Arising, and the hasting shadows fled away. 



y. 

THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING. 

V. 

GLORIA. 

Night has fled. 

^*j^^HE heavy clock strikes Four — Four after mid- 
night's hour — 
And now the night has fled forever to its den 
Of darkness, and the glorious morning Com- 
eth fair ; 
The silver morning of eternal youth, of life's 
Everhisting spring, of the vision of the Father s joy, 
Of the presence of the Lord, of the communion full, 
Emparadised, of the white Spirit's sanctity. 

And while the patient watcher doth watch with won- 
dering awe. 
The three ascending Angels with their violet wings 
Rise upward to the painted window's hallowed throne : 
Then witli their bright wings' hushed farewell, thy float 

on high 
Into the azure morning's heaven, with empassioned thrill 
Of infinite gladness, and with hymn of transfigured 
praise. 
And while, entranced, he gazes after them, the swift 
And splendid motion of their purple wings has borne 

69 



70 THE VIGIL. 

Thein to the heavenly gate, to the Aiclenn of tlie blest ; 

And thej are hidden in the light forever-more. 
Behold, while he is lost in that ecstatic vision. 

And as they passed from his fond, swift-pursning sight, 

Lo — there is tloating from the airy infinite 

An ever-fading melody ; a multitude 

Of the heavenly host was swaying round them as they 
rose 

Into the receding distance of the ^Etherial heights. 
Angels of Jesus, Angels of light. 
Singing to welcome the Pilgrim of the night. 

NOTES. 

1 Extract from a letter, from tbe Rev. William Pomeroy Ogle to liis 
aunt in America. 

" I was ordained on Thursday, Dec. 21st (1882), by the Bishop of St. 
Albans in the Parish Church of Chelmsford, Essex, On the follow- 
ing Sunday I preached at Luton and Bishop's-Teignton, and on 
Christmas Day I had the privilege of administering the Chalice for 
the first time, in the Church of Bishop's-Teignton. We were quite a 
family group, my father, p. * * * and myself dividing the service." 

2 "Penumbra" is defined in Astronomy : "A partial shade or ob- 
scurity on the margin of the perfect shade in an eclipse." How fe- 
licitous and complete the analogy to the coffin's lengthened shadow 
over the form beloved, as it lies on the margin of life's eclipse, the 
darkness of the g^rave. 

2 " Like Ely's splendid pile or Burgos' wondrous glory." 
The grandeur and beauty of the Lantern of Ely is well known to Eng- 
lishmen. A high authority has pronounced it, " The most beautiful 
and original design to be found in the whole range of Gothic Architec- 
ture in England." But, beautiful as it is, it is far inferior to the Lan- 
tern Tower of Burgos, which is perhaps the finest architectural object 
in Europe, and is worth alone a journey to Spain to see and study. 

^"The Holy Grail." His sudden death in the shadows of the 



THE MIDNIGHT AND THE MORNING, 71 

morning makes this thouglit one of peculiar tenderness. As his 
spirit awakened from the night, the Angels of consolation bring him 
first the gift of the Holy Communion, 

^ " The window, where the sacred Maries twain " — 

After the death of his mother and grandmother, who were buried on 
the same day, 1862, a beautiful memorial window was erected in the 
Church by loving friends, in which their love and faith were symbol- 
ized by the two Maries at the feet of the Lord. This window was near- 
ly opposite the family pew, where it translated the soft air of the 
Sunday afternoon into the colors of heaven. 

«" A little child"— 

Alluding to an elder sister — Grace Margaret, born April 4th, 1852, 
died at Nice, May 1, 1855, after a long and wasting illness. 

"'The Angels of Adoration " — 

This portion of the Poem is the translation into language of a re- 
markable picture in the Academy of St. Luca at Rome, which im- 
pressed my mind so deeply that it has remained in my memory for 
many years. It is by a Roman artist, and is one of the finest works 
of the modern Italian school. The rapt adoring seriousness of the 
faces ; the loving attitude of the encircling arms that sustain the 
fainting form of the Lord, the wonderful look of sorrow in the halt- 
drooping eyes ; the exquisite poise, suflFused with passionate tender- 
ness, of the many-colored wrings ; the thrilling movement with which 
they seem to rise and fall on the sacred air: make the picture a 
treasury of dreams. 



THE VIGIL. 
VI. 



VI. 
THE MIRACLE OF FLOWERS. 




VL 

THE MIRACLE OF FLOWERS. 

Lilies. 

IITH reverent awe he follows them to the 
purple gate 
Of morning, and turns again toward the 
hallowed Altar's side. 
What miracle awaits his vision now ? As in 
The sacred tomb where slept the Blessed Virgin, ' all 
Is heavenly flowers. The cerements of death are flowers 
Of Paradise. The Altar lights are Hlies now, 
And the soft rainbow glow of crowding violets 
And versicolored roses fills the scented air. 
All lights are flowers, all flowers are starry Hghts. And 

as 
The Altar lights fought back the darkness, so the flowers 
Empearl the day, and make it v/orthy of their sweet 
Blossoming. And their perfume is a message from the 

dead. 
Purity is the Lily's voice and Joy the Rose, 
And Peace is folded in the soft Camellia's bloom. 
Blest are the dead who die in the Lord, all nature speaks, 
And with her pitying, many-tinted voice doth give 
Them requiem, doth give them tender requiem. 

75 



76 THE VIGIL, 

The Exit. \^^ Xd^^i^ eiireveried in the wondrous vision fair, 
The watcher leaves the holy Altar and returns 
Into the new-born light and to the outer world. 
He presses to his bosom's throne that amber Cross 
Of light, the sainted brother's guerdon, and his wand 
Of hallowed power, the - now ^ parted Angel's Talisman. 
That Guardian Cross, that Cross of light, has eyes to see 
Within his bosom's darkness, has light to lead without, 
Through the world's devious way, to the bright land of 

dawn ; 
Has victor power against the darkness, and a light 
That is whiter than earth's clouded light. Its magnet 

power 
Is heaven, and it turns true to its pole's uplifted star. 



Watchman, it tells us of the night — what its signs of 
promise are. 

Traveller, o'er life's distant height, see its pole, 'tis Beth- 
lehem's star." 

NOTES. 

^ " The Blessed Virgin " — 

The thought here is suggested by Raphael's picture of the Corona- 
tion of the Virgin, (in the 4th SaJa of the Vatican Gallery at Rome), 
so familiar to those who know and love Rome and Raphael. While 
the Virgin appears enthroned in heaven, the apostles are seen below 
standing around the empty tomb, which is filled and overflowing with 
flowers. 

2 " 'Tis Bethlehem's Star "— 

It is an interesting fact that these words, altered from Bowring, were 
written some weeks before I received a copy of the Church Times from 
England, describing the Memorial East Window which had been 
erected in memory of the Rev. William Pomeroy Ogle in the Church 
at Brentwood ; in which at the top of the Arch appears the Star of 
Bethlehem. So that my thought above expressed seemed a prophecy. 



THE VIGIL 

VII. 



VII. 
THE MELODIOUS GRAVE. 




YII. 
THE MELODIOUS GRAVE. 

The Entombment. 

NCE more 'tis evening's hallowed honr^ The 
tired Sun 
Stoops to his setting, and would weary seek 
his land 

Of dreams. Again the Church's tender pitying knell 
Doth call the mourners' steps to the sad tearful hour 
When all is over, and the silent dead retires 
Within his flowery tomb ; where kindred dead in halls 
Of silence wait his ordered coming to their last 
Embrace of sorrow ; and the beauteous vestment that 
He wore amid earth's shadows waits for the morning, 

waits — 
In its silent folded rest the eternal morning calm, 
Waits for the true celestial land of morning calm.^ 



A Golden Chain. ^ week has passcd, whose linked days in 

rosary 
Of sorrow, make a golden chain of grief, of love. 
Transfigured tears and lowly prayer, that daily calls 
The watcher to his bended knee and faithful hour 
Of blest communion with the loved and parted soul. 

79 



80 THE VIGIL. 

Again. Again he seeks the silent grave and stands 
Above its verdurous rest. The turf is soft, 
The shadows deep, the sunny hour is heaven's 
Own benediction, and the peace our blest 
Kedeemer's gift. Lost in liis plaintive grief 
Ho sinks beside the grave; with ear attent 
To its soft harmonies of hallowed quiet. 
Behold what wonder now awaits his sense ! 



Merlin. ^g j^ the legend old of ^Merlin's tomb,' 
His sad melodious grave doth ever mourn 
His fairy-prisoned soul : its threnody 
Of sorrow ever floats upon the air ; 
Till he again is free from the false Vivian's spell 
Of magic and the enchantment of her syren power; 



Holy Music, go froui tliis Saintly grave a holy music lifts 

Its whispered resonance. Yet not the voice of grief 

Or thraldom comes upon the hushed and hallowed air. 

Ecstatic joy is in that voice, a monody 

Of holy hymns ascending from their turfy bed 

Into the still and blissful air, that gently waits 

For its new coming, waits — and then with insect hum 

And all the multisonant voice of evening's hour, 

Joins the sweet melody of everlasting peace, 

Unvanquished, deathless hope. So this melodious grave 

Doth musically murmur hymned monodies 

And tender diapasons to the bending sky. 



THE MELODIOUS GRAVE. 81 

Natures Hymn, ^he multitudinous smile of ocean, is in that 

Soft crooning hymn of velvet afternoon ; the song 

Of birds, the lark at heaven's bright gate, the humming 

bird, 
God's tiniest gift to earth's sweet air, the nightingale, 
That in the Alhambra s groves ^ doth court his tender 

mate, 
The linnet and his love, and all the bright array 



The ^oiian Harp. Qf the aerial choir. The seolian harp, 
Whose gentle sway is spread upon the winds, 
And bends the mighty storms to music's will, 
All, all pay tribute to the multitone 
From that melodious grave, and ever join 
Their worship pure and lowly in the Psalm 
Seeming of varied voices that ascends 
The overshadowing dome of heaven, the blue 



Light, ^therial air, that waits the glory of the sun 
And brings the splendent radiance of his gilded car,"* 
To shadowed mortal eyes. The mysterious murmured 

roar 
Of fair far waterfalls, the ocean's voice within 
The pearly shell, mingles in that sweet peaceful Psalm. 
The song the awakened morning stars did joyous sing, 
Is braided in with that low voice of praise ; 
And with its soft vibrating Aeons' fluttering swell, 
6 



S2 THE VIGIL. 

Forever with its maDy-tiiited radiance lifts 
The Atlas-ermined mantle of Eternity. 

NOTES. 

^ " Waits for the true celestial land of morning calm " — 

See Part II. Brentwood, Xote 2. 

^ " As in tlie legend old of Merlin's tomb " — 

" The melodious grave of the Enchanter, Merlin, which is in the 
Forest of Broceliande in Brittany, beneath lofty oaks whose topmost 
branches blaze up like green flames to the sky." — Heine. 

2 " The Nightingale, that in the Alhambra's groves " — 

The noble avenues of elms at the Alhambra, whose trees were sent 
from England by the Duke of Wellington, are full of nightingales, 
^nd their music is one of the special attractions of the place. 

•* "And brings * * radiance of his gilded car to mortal eyes " — 

Alludes to the phenomenon of Refraction. 

^ " The Atlas-ermined mantle of eternity " — 

Is an allusion to the ancient legend of Mount Atlas sustaining the 
dome of heaven through eternal years, and also a memory of the most 
glorious sight I ever beheld, the wonderful view of the whole snow- 
covered range of the Atlas from Fort National in the Kabyle coun- 
try of Algeria. Those who have seen the Alps of the Bernese Ober- 
land from the terrace at Berne, can form an imperfect idea of this most 
magnificent of views. 



THE VIGIL 

VIII. 



VIII. 
THE LOTOS FLOWER 



VIII. 

THE LOTOS FLOWER. 

^jpj^^.HE Lotos flower its life began beneath the 
tide, 
Beheld earth's slime and slimy things on ev- 
ery side ; 

Worms and decay, decay and worms surround its life, 
The watery ooze and earth's strange things in constant 
strife. 

So the white soul, a tmy seed, begins its life 
Amid earth's slime and creeping things in fervid strife; 
Its infant thought awakes beneath the waters' tide, 
And sends its rooted winglets forth on every side. 

Its fertile senses find their fill of earthly joy; 
Earth's depth of rich regalement doth not cloy; 
The undersoul doth vivid feed its living wants; 
The senses' song doth healthful fill their busy haunts. 

But now the Lily's stem ascends the lucent tide ; 
Forsakes the rooted depths where once it sported wide. 
The wealth of waters feeds its lifted glow of life. 
The waters' lambent waves with joyous brightness rife. 

85 



86 THE VIGIL. 

So the white Soul iijjlifts a Spirit's slender life, 
No more a creeping thing beneath the oozy strife. 
Elancee, straight and firm, it mounts the silver tide, 
True to the star-beam's call 23iercing the waters wide. 

The life of nature rare beneath the Lily's feet — 
It hastens up the watery heights its soul to greet ; 
Translucent depths it pierces fast with glittering eye ; 
A Spirit's life has found ; can feebly now descry 

A wondrous mantling light above the waters fair, 
Folding the lucent deeps in shining -^Ether rare ; 
The life doth seek its soul, the soul its amber life ; 
And ever rises toward its goal, through waters rife 

With sweet temptations upward, shadows bright, and 

joys 
Enshrined in waves' pellucid gladness ; that employs 
The myriad forms of beauteous finny life ; which give 
Sweet praise to the Creator that they blissful live. 

The crisis hour has come, the Soul's soft ecstasy : 
Its lofty head it lifts through the bright waters' play, 
And finds the ambient air, the warm and golden sky, 
The Sunlight on the waters ; and observes on high 

The fervid orb of day, the world of air and earth, 
The blissful mystery of life come in one hour to birth. 
And now unfolds the Lily's bloom in heavenly air. 
It pillows now its gentle head on bosom fair 



THE LOTOS FLOWER. 8T 

Of folding waters, and looks round on earth's green 

world 
Of gladness ; and looks up to heaven's empyrean 
Of orbed radiance, the ^Etherial dome serene, 
Where the Divine reigns infinite in light empearled. 

Note. — The frequent repetition of the same rhymes above is pur- 
posed, designed to suit the verse to the tender and gentle parable it 
bears. 



THE VIGIL 

IX. 



IX. 
THE BLESSED LAND IMMORTAL. 




IX. 



THE BLESSED LAND IMMORTAL. 

Its Triune Life. 

UCH is the Lily's climbing destiny, its inborn 

hope, 
Its first life is of earth, its second life of 

spirit, 

Aspiring mid translucent mysteries to know 
The higher light ; its third life is of heaven, its seat 
Upon the changeful waters, but its home the air 
Of heaven, its food the golden light of suns and stars 
Englorified in aether : its unfolding bloom 
Is worship ; its new life a song of praise forever ; 
Its white purity a hymned thanks to the Divine 
Beneficence and overshadowing love : its bliss 
A pictured lesson of the soul's ecstatic dawn. 



The Legend, ^g [j^ ^]^q legend old, the mystic Lotos flower 
Did sacred symbolize ephemeral Time afloat 
Upon the gentle bosom of Eternity ; 
While the lifted spirit caught brief glimpse of golden 
peace 

91 



92 THE VIGIL. 

Hidden within the folded centuries : Thus the Soul 
Floats on the Eternal's bosom, and its hour of earthly 

Time 
Is hid within the orbed centuries. Endless life 
The Mystic ^lie mjstic Lily holds within its fragrant 

heart, 
And with ambrosial bliss doth feed the sainted soul, 
Who will go out no more forever from the feast 
And home the Lily Angel fair doth make of heaven. 
The souls on earth we daily knew, in heaven each 

dwells 
Within a Lily's heart; floats on the Crystal Sea 
In a white Lily's heart; hath its eternal home 
Within a Lily's heart; that opes its bosom's gold 
To greet the golden day, and folds its petals white 
To meet the purple night ; that follows the Soul's Sun 
With reverent worship, and at evening's pensive hour 
Doth wrap the drapery of its argent cloak around 
The tired soul, while it lies down to pleasant dreams. 
And while they sleep, their Lilies, Guardian Angels, still 
Behold the Father's face who is in heaven, and who 
Enfolds in His Divine embrace all holy souls. 
While the vast aeons' waves break on the eternal shore, 
And the Morning Stars come to their hour of glorious 

dawn. 

other Selves. Thosc Lilics are our heavenly bodies, waiting 

our blest 
Exchange of worlds — still listening, waiting, evermore 
The blissful union; other fairer selves, whose life 
Is the white robe enfolding our ascending souls. 



THE BLESSED LAND IMMORTAL. 93 

These are our Guardian Angels, that behold on high 

The Father's face, our other selves, that never left 

The heavenly portal, and with loving longings deep 

Wait for our coming; tliat their purer life 

May body ours, may be our garment of celestial praise, 

Our music senses, our Divine attune to peace 

Unfading, our vehicle of thought and canopy 

Of soul ; to whose soft lifted eyes all heaven is fair; 

Unending years unwind life's gentle river's stream; 

While a Saviour leads beside still Lilied waters bright, 

Or makes to grow in meadows fair eternally. 



THE VIGIL 
X. 



X. 

THE SEA-BIRD'S RETURN. 



X. 

THE SEA-BIRD'S RETURN. 



Over. 




,UCH was the tender pitying tale, my Sea-bird 
brought to me, 
Over the wild and roaring gale — over the 
saddened sea; 
Over the frightened, hasting waves — over the storm's 

stern power ; 
Over the treasures in Ocean's caves — over the tempest's 

hour ; 
Over the Sea's fierce restless roll — over the glowering 

day; 
Over the hiding, hungry shoal — over the wearying 

way ; 
Over the night's dim silent scene — over the shrouded 

dead; 
Over the watery world unseen — over the shipwreck's 

bed; 
Over the cities that sunk away ' — over the tides that 

swell — 
Over the sails in the beautiful bay — over the storm's 
farewell; 

97 



98 THE VIGIL. 

Over the slumbers of iair Undine — over the harbor's rest ; 
Over the joy of its own demesne — over its home and 
nest. 



Under. Under the stars that silent shine — under the winds 

that blow; 
Under the moon in its pallid shrine — under the whit- 
ening snow; 
Under the sun's dim ghostly veil — under the fog's dark 

bower ; 
Under the cyclone's pitiless hail — under the typhoon's 

power ; 
Under the Aurora's mocking light — under the Phos- 

phor's glow; 
Under St. Elmo's warning bright — under the lightning's 

sault ; 
Under the meteors fierce that run — under their portents' 

scorn ; 
Under the Oxen of the Sun — under the clouds of dawn ; 
Under the morning's advent fair — under the growing 

gleam ; 
Under the evening's purple air — under its waning 

dream ; 
Under the dusk's encircling gloom — under its shadows 

deep; 
Under the night's enfolding tomb — under its mists that 

creep ; 
Under the holy Care that guards — under the Love that 

waits ; 
Under the Power no power retards — under the pitying 

fates. 



THE SEA-BIRD'S RETURN, 99 

Finis. Over the land, over the sea, my sea-bird came 
to me, 

Bearing its tender tale to me, over the hallowed sea : 

Under the sky with its glittering arch, it flew to bring 
to me. 

The freight it bore, on its pinions' march, over the sad- 
dened sea. 

NOTE. 

1' Over the cities that sunk away ' — 
The lost land of Atlantis. 




_- *► 



..i'^"*- 




APPENDIX. 



APPENDIX 
I. 



From The Essex County, Chronicle, Friday, August Sth, 1884. 
(Chelmsford.) 

SAD DEATH OF THE REV. WILLIAM POMEROY OGLE. 

A feeling of pain and gloom lias been cast over Brentwood and the 
neigliborh'ood by tlie sudden death of the Rev. Wm. Pomeroy Ogle, 
Que of the curates of the parish. Mr. Ogle, who was found dead in 
bed on Friday morning, was only 24 years of age. He was a son of the 
Rev. W. Reynolds Ogle, rector of Bishops-Teignton, Devonshire, and 
lord of that manor. He had been at Brentwood about a year and 
eight months, and by his devotion to his work, his bright and happy 
disposition, and his singularly winning manner, had gained the es- 
teem of all with whom he had been brought in contact. He took a 
special interest in the work of the elder Sunday class, and exercised 
over the lads a peculiar charm which bound them to him in a spirit of 
true affection. He was also superior of the Young Ward of the Guild, 
and was the head of the Juvenile Branch of the Chuich of England 
Temperance Society. He was of delicate constitution, but devoted 
himself to his work witli great earnestness. More than once he was 
compelled to seek a change to recuperate his strength, and on one occa- 
sion, when taking part in the services of the Church, he was obliged 
to retire to the vestry owing to faintness, to which he was liable from 
the weak state of his heart. He was possessed of independent means, 
but was so wedded to his work that he never thought of relinquish- 

103 



104 APPENDIX. 

ing it. As a preacher he was much appreciated. That he recognized 
the possible consequences of his delicate constitution was apparent in 
some of his sermons, and especially in one which he preached only- 
two or three weeks since from the words, " I reckon that the suffer- 
ings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
which shall be revealed in us." Recently, however, he had appeared 
to be in comparatively good health. During last week he attended 
the services as usual and took part in the one at five o'clock on Thurs- 
day evening. This only served to intensify the shock with which the 
news of his death was on Friday morning received in the town. Up- 
on the Vicar, the Rev. C. Griustead, with whom he had worked in 
such thorough harmony, the sad news made a most painful impress- 
ion. The deceased would have begun his holiday on Monday last, 
and he had intended to spend it at his home in Devonshire. He had 
invited Mr. A. H. Brown, the organist at the parish church, to spend 
his holiday with him, and Mr. Brown was expecting a visit from the 
deceased to arrange for their going away, when the sad tidings of his 
death were reported. 



APPENDIX 
II. 



From The Essex County Chronicle, Friday, August 8tli, 1884. 
(Chelmsford.) 

SERVICES AT THE CHURCH. 
references to the event. 

The services at the parish church on Sunday were of an affecting' 
character. The Rev. C. Grinstead, who was evidently laboring un- 
der deep feeling, gave a short address in place of the usual sermon, 
relating to the work and character of the deceased. The first hymn 
sung was the one commencing, " When our heads are bowed with 
woe." The other hymns were " Behold the Lamb of God !" and " 
Saviour, precious Saviour." 

The Vicar, in the course of his address, said that he was sure that 
in the face of the trouble which possessed them all, they would not 
expect himto say many words, but he must allude to the point of their 
very great loss. Their dear friend and brother was endowed with so 
many personal gifts that he made himself dear to the hearts of all 
those with whom he was brought in contact. By his bright and hap- 
py disposition, his willing and ready spirit, his winning manner, and 
his devotion, he won a way everywhere for himself — alike in the 
children's school and among those who were grown up. His death 
was a great loss to them, but he spoke to them that day in a way 
that no one could ever speak to them — so strongly, so deeply to their 
hearts. It seemed sad that one so young, so full of promise, should 

105 



106 APPENDIX. 

so suddenly be cut oflf from their midst, and should have had to car- 
ry about with him, so to speak, the canker which should suddenly 
cut him down in the midst of life. Their lost friend preached about 
it sometimes, but never with such singular force as to-day, in the 
Lord's own words, " Be ye ready also." Many, and especially the 
young, were apt to forget that lesson. They were so young, so full 
of life, but how many knew they did not carry about the same weak- 
ness, the same disease? How could they pass over the solemnity of 
that warning when they considered the uncertainty of life ? Look at 
their service-book : the particulars of last Sunday's services were filled 
in in the handwriting of their dear friend on Monday. He had filled 
in the days of Wednesday and Thursday — but the services on hose 
days had to be filled in by another hand. On Thursday he was there 
at evensong and knelt with them in the chapel. When the oeh sound- 
ed he came gladly, scattering smiles on all around. On Friday the bell 
called, but there was " no voice nor any to answer." Did not this 
tell them what a dreadful thing it was to be in life with all its oppor- 
tunities, and be so near to death ? How they saw the spirit of their 
dear brother in the way he disposed of his money ! Sufficient he had 
for his wants, but how generous in giving it away ! He (the Vicar) 
knew many times he would call to him some of those poor people who 
were at the lodging-houses to speak to them, and give them of his 
means. It might be against all the laws of political economy, but 
from the freedom of his heart he would give, hoping it would bless 
the recipient as well as the giver. He was so unselfish, so unsparing, 
never calculating that this or that would be to his injury. One person 
said to him yesterday, that their dear friend knew some months awo 
that he was sufiering from this disease, and he was asked by the 
person of whom he spoke to be more sparing of himself ; but he said, 
" I must live in my way — do my work in my way." He never altered — 
he went on just the same. They might say it was reckless and care- 
less, but it was the whole disposition of the man to give himself and 
all he had to the work. He had received the spirit of joy, willing- 
ness, and devotion in all that he did. The many ailments and weak- 
nesses which in solitary times pressed on him — when he was at home, 
quiet and alone, had been taken away, and God had received him to 
himself. The Vicar announced that the body of the deceased 
would be brought to the church on Tuesday evening, and those who 



APPENDIX. \m 

liked to do so might walk in the procession. There would be a short 
service afterwards, and a celebration of the Holy Communion on 
Wednesday morning, so hat those who desired to bear a last tribute 
of affection and reverence to him who had gone, would have the op- 
portunity of joining with them and him in the communion of saints. 

The congregation was much moved by the Vicar's address, and 
many eyes were moistened. At the close of the service Mr A. H. 
Brown played the " Dead March " in Saul, the clergy and choir and 
most of the congregation kneeling throughout. 

The deceased's father attended the service. 



The service on Sunday evening was also of a very affecting charac- 
ter. Special hymns were sung, and at the close of the service the 
hymn " Day of wrath ! O day of mourning," was sung, the congre- 
gation kneeling. As the congregation was leaving, Mr. A. H. Brown 
played Chopin's funeral march. 



FUNERAL PROCESSION AND SPECIAL BURIAL SERVICES. 

The feeling of grief which the sad occurrence has caused in the town 
of Brentwood was manifested in a most striking manner on Tuesday 
evening, when there was a funeral procession from Crosse Lawrence, 
the late residence of the deceased, in Rose Valley, to the Parish 
Church, where a special burial service was held. Hundreds of per- 
sons had assembled along the route, and the procession, which start- 
ed from Crosse Lawrence at half-past seven, moved slowly through 
an avenue of deeply affected people. The procession was headed by 
a cross-bearer (Mr. A. Larkin), next walked the choir led by Mr. 
Bailey, the lion, choirmaster, followed by the following clergy: — The 
Revds. C. R. N. Burrows, F. Alban Wyld, C. Earle, Denton Jones, 
and C. Grinstead, vicar. Then came the body; the cofRn, which was 
borne by 12 bearers, being covered witli a rich purple pall, while up- 
on the top were a number of beautiful wreaths. The pall-bearers were 
Mr. J. C. Quennell, Mr. R. Qiiennell, Mr. E. N. Cubitt, Major Steuart, 
Captain Cole, and Mr. (x. P. Charter. Immediately following the 



108 APPENDIX. 

body were the Rev. Pelham Ogle, a brother of the deceased, and the 
Rev. J. T. Bailey. The members of the Guild of the Ascension, of 
which the deceased was the superior, walked next, followed by the 
members of his Sunday-Scliool class and the pupils of Whitelyons 
School; and the rear of the procession was brought up by a large 
number of the residents of the town, among them being Mr. J. Phil- 
ips, the Rev. R. T. Pollexfen, Messrs. F. U. S. Hayne, J. F. Wiffen, 
W. Carter. M. Playle, I. Turrell, R. Smith, Laming, W. Salmon, H. 
Newell, Howe, J. H. Drake, Haylett, G. Aldridge, T. Wells, T. Tate, 
C. Ablin, H. L. Lewis, A. Fogden, F. Stanford, J. Merry, H. F. Smith, 
Barrett, J. Back, Henry Young, Tibbett, and many others, including 
a number of ladies. Mr. W. Larkin, treasurer of the Guild, walked 
directly i)i front of the body, carrying the vestments of the deceased, and 
Mr. W. H. Jarvis acted as ceremonarius. As the procession moved 
slowly up the hill, with the choir singing " The Litany of the four last 
things," (Nos. 463), the scene was a most impressive one. On the 
conclusion of the Litany, the hymn " Brief Life is here our Portion " 
was sung, and the procession passed through the cemetery to the west 
door of the church. On the choir entering the church the opening 
sentences of the burial office were read, the body meanwhile being 
borne up the central aisle and placed on the bier in the centre of the 
chancel. On each side of the coffin were three lighted candles, and 
near hy, hanging over the stall which is rendered vacant hy his death, 
were the vestments of the deceased. The church was crowded. The ser- 
vice was a mingling of the Burial Office and the Evening Service. 
The Psalms from the Burial Office, Nos. xxxix. and xc. were chant- 
ed. The first lesson, which was read by the Rev. Denton Jones, was 
that for All Saints' Day, from Wisdom iii. to 9. The second lesson 
was from the Burial Office, and was read by the Rev. C. R. N. Bur- 
rows. Immediately after the second lesson the Yicar, the Rev. C. 
Grinstead, standing at the entrance to the chancel, delivered an ad- 
dress. It was to them, he said, very gratifying to see so many pres- 
ent, to showb}^ their sympathy and loving kindness in accompanying 
the procession their affection for their dear- departed brother. From 
that place where he was, in that land where there was no sorrow, 
where sorrow had fled away for ever, and where joy and happiness 
increased day by day, in that place which he now knew, he had seen 
their marks of affection; for we could not but believe that the soul. 



APPENDIX. 109 

which was separated from all that was earthly, looked out from that 
place with the knowledge which God had given him. They knew 
that this knowledge was not complete; they knew that the other land, 
the land of Paradise, where their beloved were, was a land of growth 
and increase, and knowledge grew day by day ; and love grew, and 
the blessing of the sense of reward grew there. \Yhat was the re- 
ward which the laborer received when the Lord gathered him to 
his rest? Not the reward only of affection and sympathy. The re- 
ward of the laborer was that described by the great laborer, St. Paul, 
— "What is my hope, my joy, my crown of rejoicing? Is it not ye in the 
presence of the Lord Jesus Christ ?" What would their dear brother 
say to them that night from the platform of that chancel ? He would 
say, "Be you followers of Christ, even as I am. If you are looking 
forward to the heavenly home which I have reached by the same 
way I have preached to you, do you follow in that way. Follow 
what I have instructed you in, and that home of rest and freedom 
from worldly care and sorrow which I have reached shall be yours." 
He (the Vicar), hoped that the effect of having seen one of the min- 
isters brought into that chancel would be, that they would endeavor 
to tread in the steps of God's ministers so far as they taught them 
the will of God. They might imitate their dear departed brother. 
They knew he served his Master in much weakness, in much pain 
at times; but his heart seemed so full of love to those among whom 
he ministered, so full of love for his work, so overflowing with glad- 
ness and joy, that wherever he went there was an atmospliere of joy 
about him. He had a secret trial. He had pains within which he 
carefully shielded from the rest of the world, and when he spoke to 
them as he did at times, he knew what it was to live a Christian life 
in great weakness, in many trials; he knew, wiien the gaze of the 
world was not fixed upon him what the trial and sufferiugof a Christ- 
ian life was, and he asked them from Ids secret cross of suffering to 
follow the steps of his blessed Master. It ought to teach them to be 
very tender to one another. There might be weaknesses in all. Lei 
them remember that they could not tell under what difficulties, un- 
der what sorrows they each one had to Uvea religious life. 

The service was then proceeded with, the hymn ''Jesus lives ! no 
longer now," being sung immediately before the blessing. At the 
close of the service Mr. A. H. Brown played *'I know that my Re- 



110 APPENDIX. 

deemer liveth," from the Messiah. After the service the congrega- 
tion tiled up the side aisles and passed in front of the chancel, many 
pausing to kneel in prayer at the chancel steps. 

The body remained in the church through the night, and was attend- 
ed b)^ relays of watchers composed of members of the Guild of the As- 
cension. 

At eight o'clock on Wednesday morning there was a celebration of 
the Holy Communion, wiiich was attended by a large number of 
communicants. Solemn as this service naturally is, it was on 
Wednesday morning of a peculiarly impressive nature, the body of 
the deceased still resting on the bier in the chancel. There were 
many beautiful wreaths and crosses on and around the coffin, includ- 
ing one of white flowers, which was brought that morning. The 
celebrant was the Rev. C. R. N, Burrows, assisted by the Vicar and 
the Rev. F. A. Albyn Wyld. The service used was Mr. A. H. Brown's 
"Missa Qumti Zoni," the "Gloria inExcelsis" being rendered in a 
monotone instead of being sung. A special introit was used for the 
occasion. At the close of the service the Niinc Dimittis was sung. 

At ten o'clock, immediately prior to the removal of the body from 
the church, a short service was conducted by the Rev. C. Grinstead. 
The body was placed in a hearse and conveyed by road to Paddington 
station, and from thence by railway to Bishops-Teignton. The body 
was interred in the family vault at St. John's Church yesterday (Thurs- 
day). The funeral arrangements were carried out by Mr. C. J. Wallis, 
who with the Vicar accompanied the body to Paddington station. 

Among those who sent wreaths were the Bishop of Colchester, Mrs. 
Blomfield, Mrs. Growse, Mrs. Nickisson and family, Mrs. Odell, Mr. 
A. H. and Miss Brown, Miss Garden, Mrs. C. N. Cubitt, Mr. and Mrs. 
G. Larkin, Mr. W. H. Jarvis, Miss James and Miss Taylor, Miss Nich- 
ols, Mr. Hodge, Mrs. Deverell, Mr. Leverton, the Men's Guild; and 
crosses were sent by Major and Mrs. Steuart, ]Mrs. E P. Landon, Mrs. 
W. W. Brown, the Girl's Guild Ward, the choirboys, Miss Bryan, the 
Misses Lucas, and others. 



APPENDIX 
III. 



From The Church Times, 

London, Feb. dth, 1885. 

Brentwood, Essex. — A highly interesting service took place in the 
parish church of this town on Saturday afternoon last, the dedication 
of the great East window, which has just been filled with stained 
glass to the memory of the late much-beloved curate, the Rev. W. P. 
Ogle, who died suddenly last August. The v/indow is of the Early 
Entrlish period, and consists of three long lancet lights, the centre one 
being wider and very much longer than thesideliglits. The subjects 
are three in number: 1st, the Epiphany running through the lights, 
surmounted with canopies, in each of which are two angels worship- 
ing the Holy Child, above Whom is the miraculous star ; 2nd, and 
principal subject, is the Crucifixion, the figures of which are little 
short of life-size. This subject is also surmounted by canopies of the 
Early English period, the top of the central one (3) forming the foot- 
stool of the throne on which our Lord is seated in glory, clothed in 
albe and stole to shovv^ His Priesthood, and robe, crown, and orb, to 
show His Majesty, His right hand being raised in benediction. At 
the foot of the whole is the following inscription : — " To the glory of 
God, and in affectionate memory of William Pomeroy Ogle, deacon of 
this church, who was born on the Feast of St. Lawrence, 1859, and 
died on Lammas Day, 1884. This window is dedicated by those who 
loved him, on the Vigil of the Purification, 1885." A special service, 
authorized by the Bishop, was used, consisting of versicles, antiphon, 
psalms, prayers, hymns, and address. There was a full choir, and 

111 



112 APPENDIX. 

tlie vicar sang the prayers standing at the altar, and afterwards deliv- 
ered the address. On the same day another window was unveiled in 
the south aisle, consisting of four lights, and containing standing figures 
of SS. Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, and Matthew, placed to the 
memory of Mr. Thomas Larkin, an old parishioner. The glass of both 
windows is of exquisite tone and quality, and is from the studio of 
Messrs. A. O. Hemming and Co., 47, Margaret-street, Cavendish- 
square, who also lately supplied another similar window presented 
by Mr. Arthur H, Brown, organist of the church, and his sister, to the 
memory of their parents. 



APPENDIX 
IV. 

From The Teignmouth Gazette. 

REOPENING OF LUTON CHURCH. 

Saturday last, St. Luke's day, was the 30tli anniversary of the Dedi- 
cation of Luton Church. This date was appropriately chosen for the 
ceremony of re-opening the Church after considerable improvement 
and adornment both in nave and Chancel. The decoration of the Chan- 
nel was the especial feature of the work; and this part was under- 
Taken as a memorial to the late Rev. William Pomeroy Ogle, whose 
sudden and untimely death, nearly three months ago, is yet fresh in the 
memory of friends and neighbors. 

Mr. Ogle, the third son of the Vicar of Bishop's-Teigfnton, was ed- 
ucated at Charterhouse and Christ Church, Oxford. He then stud- 
ied at the Ely Theological College, and was ordained E-eacon at Ad- 
vent, 1882, by the Bishop of St. Albans. For the next 18 months he 
held the Curacy of St. Thomas the Martyr, at Brentwood, in Essex; 
where " by his bright and happy disposition, his ready and willing 
spirit, his winning manner, and his devotion, he won a way every- 
where for himself — alike in the children's school and among those 
who were grown up." (We quote from a sermon preached at Brent- 
wood by the Vicar, the Rev. C. Grinstead.) 

On the 1st of August, Mr. Ogle was taken away from his work by 
sudden and unexpected death. He had dined in London the previous 
evening, and was apparently in perfect health and spirits. The next 
8 113 



114 APPENDIX. 

morninof he was found dead in bis bed. The cause of deatb was 
found tobave been sudden failure of tbe action of tbe beart, wbieb 
tbe post-mortem showed to have been of unusual weakness. 

Funeral services were held on August 5th and 6tb, at Brentwood, and 
on tbe 6tb and 7tb at Bishops-Teignton, which were very largely at- 
tended; and on tbe last mentioned day the body was laid in tbe family 
vault at Bishop's-Teignton. Very shortly afterwards steps were taken 
to erect appropriate tributes to bis memory in tbe parishes which were 
the scenes of bis early life and ministerial labors. 

The small church at Luton was originally built in 1853, by tbe 
kind interest and liberality of the Vicar of Bishop's-Teignton and a 
small body of friends. 

The improvements on this occasion have consisted chiefly in the 
opening out of the Chancel Arch and tbe decoration of tbe choir walls 
and roof with scroll-work, block patterns and ecclesiastical emblems. 
On tbe south side was tbe text, " So He giveth His beloved sleep," 
and on the north side, " He is not dead, but sleepetb." But the prin- 
cipal memorial character of the work has been contained in four fig- 
ures of Saints, placed two on either side of tbe East window. On tbe 
north, St. Stephen and St. William of York; on the south, St, Law- 
rence and St. Nathanael. Tbe appropriate choice of these particular 
Saints has been indicated by tbe memorial brass in the sedilia in the 
south wall, tbe inscription on which was as follows : 

Ad majorem Del gloriam 

et 

in memoriam 

Willelmi Pomeroy Ogle, diaconi. 

Quern, simplicitatem S. Natbanaelis, S. Stephani 

fidelitatem, S. Laurenti constantiam, suavitatem 

S. Willelmi, pro viribus aemulantem, 
Muneribus sacrosancti ministerii vixdum libatis 

Subita mors infeliciter abripuit, 

Chorum hujus ecclesiae adorandum curaverunt 

Pater, cognati, amici. 

Natus est Aug. X. MDCCCLIX. 

Obiit Auir. I. MDCCCLXXXIV. 



APPENDIX. 115 

(Translation.) 

To the advancement of God's glory, and in memory of William 
Pomeroy Ogle, deacon, who, striving as far as he might after the 
guilelessness of St. Nathanael,the faithfulness of St. Stephen, the con- 
stancy of St. Lawrence, and the loveableness of St. William, when 
he had but just entered upon the duties of the sacred ministry, was 
untimely snatched away by sudden death, his father, relations and 
friends have undertaken the adornment of the Chancel of this Church, 
He was born August 10th, 1859; he died August 1st, 1884. 

The figures of the saints are painted in monochrome, under canopies, 
against a three-quarter background of gold diaper work, the upper 
quarter being of pale blue, thus throwing the heads and nimbi into 
fine relief. All four are represented standing; St. Stephen holding 
his emblem, the palm, his eyes raised to heaven, and with stones at 
his feet ; St. William, Archbishop of York, in the attitude of benedic- 
tion; St. Lawrence holding his gridiron, is after a special design pre- 
pared at Munich; and St. Nathanael with the Jewish head-dress, as 
depicted in the Memorial Chapel at Windsor, is in the attitude of 
prayer. The chocolate-colored outline, relieved by gold decoration, 
produces a clear and pleasing effect ; and some of the figures are 
strikingly characterized by gentle grace and devotion. We under- 
stand that Mr. Poole of Teignmouth, will shortly publish photographs 
of this very pleasing work of art. The general opinion of critics is 
very complimentary to the skill and taste shown by the decorator, 
Mr. A. Welch, of Bovey Tracey. 

On the day of opening, the church was handsomely adorned with 
flowers, fruit, and corn, by Mrs. Young of Teign Lawn, who has 
throughout taken much interest in the work. The service was ap- 
pointed for 12 o'clock, and by that hour almost every seat was occu- 
pied by parishioners and by many visitors from the parishes around. 
The officiating clergy were the Kev. Pelham Ogle, who took the first 
part of Evening Prayer, the Rev. James Metcalfe, who read the first 
lesson, the Rev. Donald Owen who read the 2nd lesson, and the Rev. 
E. E. Douglas, who took the remainder of the service. 

The sermon was preached by Prebendary, the Hon. H. H. Courte- 
nay, Rector of Powderham, on Psalm xcvi. 6, and the Vicar of Bish- 
op's-Teignton, the Rev. W. R. Ogle, pronounced the benediction. 



APPENDIX 
V. 



The following letter is subjoined, addressed to tlie Rev. P. R. Ogle 
by the Rt. Rev. The Bishop of Colchester. 

Brentwood, Oct. Uth, 1884. 
Jear Mr. Ogle — 

Tt is extremely kind of you to send me the memorial 
of your dear brother. I had conceived an affection for him which 
I hoped would have resulted in a permanent friendship — a life-long 
friendship, I was going to write, and it was as long as 7iis life. 
But God willed that the older should survive the younger. Within 
a few weeks of his death I should have been privileged, had he lived, 
to have ordained him a Priest in the Church of Grod. 

His loss has been a real grief to me. I cannot even yet think of it 
without deep emotion. 

Mrs. Blomfield joins me in thanking you for your kind letter and 
the card. 

Believe me 

Sincerely yours, 

A Colchester. 










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